


Earning Prowl

by Hours_Gone_By



Series: Trope Bingo Round Twelve [21]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Alternate Universe - Aristocracy, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Angry Kissing, Aristocracy, Conspiracy, Dominance, Enthusiastic Consent, Explicit Consent, Investigations, M/M, Princes & Princesses, Royalty, Transformers Plug and Play Sexual Interfacing, Trope Bingo Round 12, authority kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-26
Updated: 2019-06-30
Packaged: 2020-05-20 08:30:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19373020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hours_Gone_By/pseuds/Hours_Gone_By
Summary: Prowl's first impression on Jazz was quite different. Jazz was facing the gorgeous pursuit vehicle as it transformed into an equally gorgeous mech whose faceplates were set in a stern but still professional expression. It wasn't hard to figure out that Prowl knew who Jazz was and Prowl was not pleased.Then Prowl spoke aloud, and Jazz knew he was in trouble that had nothing to do with speeding.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Camp NaNoWriMo April 2019 and [Trope Bingo](https://trope-bingo.dreamwidth.org) [Round 12](https://trope-bingo.dreamwidth.org/tag/round+twelve). Prompt: AU: Royalty/Aristocracy

Jazz sang loudly to himself as he raced along the section of the King's Highway that ran along the northern border of Praxus. It was a bright, sunny day, he was ahead of schedule, _and_ he had the road all to himself! You didn't get driving conditions like this back in Iacon, not even when you were one of the King's Own. Oh, sure, the Royal Racetrack was big and flawlessly maintained, and he had use of it whenever it was free if he wanted. But nothing beat a straight road on a beautiful day.

Primus, it was days like this that made him extra glad he'd ditched the titles and frippery and nonsense of being _eres_ to the earl of Staniz and joined the King's service instead. Ricochet could deal with _that –_ not like he'd inherit anytime soon, if ever. Jazz wanted to be on the road, fast and free, as close to flying as he could get.

Well, for the next cycle or so, anyway. Jazz _did_ have a mission to get on with, after all. Word had come that a nest of conspirators wanting to kill Prince Sentinel Zeta, heir-presumptive and creation of King Alpha Trion had taken up residence in Iacon Minor. Jazz's job was to work with Lord Prowl, whose family governed that province, to winkle them out in case they proved competent enough to assassinate the prince.

Deep, deep in his memory cores, firewalled so heavily you'd have to take him apart to get it, Jazz thought that Prince Orion Pax, the younger creation, would make a better king. There was a weird vibe to Sentinel that Jazz didn't like and Orion had kindness and empathy in spades. Wisdom, too, and those were good qualities in a king. But Orion had been sparked to serve as his elder brother's advisor and hadn't yet shown any desire to be anything else.

Jazz still taught him to fight, though. Just in case.

Jazz had been surprised to learn, right before he left, that Orion knew this Prowl mech.

"He's one of my tutors," Orion had said, in that gentle voice of his – the opposite of Sentinel's, meant to be heard over a battlefield. Sentinel was expected to command, Orion to convince. "We haven't met in person, but we interact over comms and the DataNet almost daily."

"Oh yeah?" Jazz had been interested, as well as gathering intel. "What's he like?"

Orion had paused thoughtfully. "Calm. Collected. Logical and rational. He sees," here Orion had frowned, clearly trying to put something into words, "patterns. He's absolutely brilliant at it, too. Sometimes you'd think he could see the future."

Jazz had been even more interested. "Sounds like a complicated mech."

"You're either going to frag each other senseless," Orion might be gentle and even-tempered, but he wasn't naïve, and he knew Jazz pretty well, "or try to kill each other."

Jazz had flashed him a grin. "Mech, I don't _try_ to kill anyone."

Now, as he roared up the road toward the sprawling estates of Clan Jaspidus, Jazz wondered which one of the two reactions he'd have. His musings were interrupted by the sound of sirens on the road behind him. A sleek, gorgeous, pursuit vehicle was following him, and even though Jazz was annoyed at the thought of getting pulled over (Iacon Minor had speed limits, the weirdos), he supposed getting fined his first day in the province was going to be bad enough. The Enforcer would have already read Jazz's RFID so it wasn't like they couldn't find him later if Jazz bothered to lose them. Jazz obediently slowed and pulled over onto the side of the highway.

 _'Jazz of Staniz,_ ' the Enforcer transmitted on a narrow-band channel. ' _Transform to your root mode and remain still as I approach._ ' The Enforcer pinged Jazz his own ID, so Jazz could verify he was dealing with a real Enforcer and oh scrap:

 _Enforcer Badge Number 0_ _5532332-ΓΠμ – Prowl, Lord Jaspidus, of Iacon Minor._

Well, Jazz's first impression on Lord Prowl had just been dumped straight into the Pit, hadn't it? Damn! He hadn't even really been speeding – not much, anyway. Besides, who would've expected the second creation of a Marquess to be doing routine highway patrol!

Prowl's first impression on Jazz was quite different. Jazz was facing the gorgeous pursuit vehicle as it transformed into an equally gorgeous mech whose faceplates were set in a stern but still professional expression. It wasn't hard to figure out that Prowl knew who Jazz was and Prowl was not pleased.

Then Prowl spoke aloud, and Jazz knew he was in trouble that had nothing to do with speeding.

"You are aware of my reasons for stopping you?"

Jazz gave a little shrug and a grin just the right flavour of rueful. "Yessir, speeding. 'Fraid I got a little too enthusiastic 'bout your roads."

"I see." Prowl did not counter what Jazz had said, though he did look him over. "You missed the notification of the speed limit when you entered the provincial limits, then?"

"Uh…" Something told Jazz he wouldn't be able to argue any connection between 'missing' and 'ignoring' here. "No, sir."

"The requisite penalty for distracted driving has been added to your fine," Prowl informed him, even as notice of the fine, very formally addressed to 'The Honorable Jazz of Staniz'  landed in Jazz's inbox.

The fine was big enough to sting but not so much that it would wreck someone's income, though Jazz noted there was an option to pay in instalments. Jazz bit back a sigh and paid it in full, then and there, from his expense account. Accounting wouldn't be happy about that – literally, because Jazz had slipped a sneaky little algorithm in that oh-so-conveniently relabeled his tickets to something less illegal. They wouldn't know about it, so they couldn’t be either happy or unhappy. He'd just have to be careful about how much he spent on other things to balance it out, so no one looked at his expenses too closely.

"I'm aware of who you are," Prowl continued, and not in the tone of someone welcoming a mech, "but that exempts you from nothing. You may continue on your way, and I will see you again upon my return home." Where Jazz would be staying as a guest, which wouldn't be awkward at all. "You will respect the speed limits and the rules of the road for the remainder of your stay."

Primus, what was jamming this mech's gears? But Jazz had enough trouble for one day with this particular bot, and so he just agreed.

Maybe for the rest of his stay Prowl would do less talking and Jazz could do more looking. Otherwise, Jazz had a feeling they were going to come down on the 'try to kill him' side of Orion's opinion.

Fan-fragging-tastic.

* * *

Prowl's creator, Hunter, Marquess of Iacon Minor, had ruled peacefully until a young racer named Breakneck had spun into Hunter's life and enchanted the staid mech. Hunter had never had a _conjunx_ or other long-term lover before, having been (legally, he had a battalion of servants) a single creator. No other mech had been involved in his request of sparks from Vector Sigma. Barricade and Prowl, Hunter's creations, weren't that much younger than Breakneck. Prowl would have been concerned if it hadn't been evident that the enchantment was mutual; Breakneck only had to hear Hunter's steps or engine to go starry-opticked. And, a thorough background check of his creator's new paramour had shown absolutely no red flags beyond a few youthful fines for speeding. Prowl was willing to let those go since they had been taken care of and Breakneck had since channelled his love of speed into professional racing.

Several meta-cycles ago Hunter had departed Cybertron with Breakneck for a tour of various pleasure-planets and had not given an expected date of return. He had left the running of the province in the hands of his creations and Barricade, the elder, was Marquess in all but name. To Prowl's mild surprise, Barricade had proven to be competent at it, relying on Prowl for advice less often than expected and doing quite well even so. Prowl hadn't had to give up a single one of his patrol shifts with the local Enforcers, which was why he'd been the 'lucky' one to pull over the King's Mech.

At least the mech, Jazz, hadn't tried to cyber-weasel out of the ticket and had paid his fines promptly. Prowl was not displeased to see that the mech hadn't tried to use rank and/or position to get away with his misdemeanour. Given that the only mecha who outranked Prowl in Iacon Minor were Barricade and the absent Hunter, it wouldn't have worked but that never stopped anyone from trying.

Though perhaps it would have been intriguing to have the mech try to proposition his way out of the ticket if only so Prowl could see how he reacted when Prowl turned him down and added an attempted bribery charge.

Hopefully, the experience had been a sobering one, and the rest of Prowl's dealings with this Jazz would be more equitable. Typically dealing with an emissary from the King would fall to entirely to Barricade, but Prowl's relationship with the local Enforcers made him better qualified.

Prowl was less than surprised when he returned to his family's Tower – a slightly misleading name for a cluster of tall buildings – and learned Barricade wanted to see him. Right away, according to Smokescreen, the Tower's seneschal. Prowl thanked him, paused to brush the road dust from his armour, and headed to Barricade's study. It was not the one Hunter had used since both siblings felt it was not right to take it over while the Marquess still lived. Prowl had estate-and-holdings related tasks of his own, and his study was in the older section of the Tower, as he preferred. The plainer décor appealed to him far more than the, he felt, over-decorated newer parts of the building.

Barricade was sitting at the massive desk, three screens hovering in front of him and a tablet in his hands. He gave his younger sibling a distracted wave when he entered, and Prowl walked over and seated himself without invitation.

"Prowl, hey, look I know I said I was going to help with the mech the King's Guard sent out to look into that conspiracy thing if I could," Barricade did not share his sibling's precision with language, "but the Trannis Fork River flooding was worse than they said it would be. I've got to coordinate relief efforts. Will you be okay dealing with this Jazz mech?"

Barricade had much better interpersonal skills than his younger sibling. Prowl would have preferred to deal with the relief efforts but understood the reasons behind the assignment.

"I'll be able to work with him alone," Prowl promised. "I did have to pull him over and issue him a fine for speeding and distracted driving earlier today, however."

Barricade shook his head and rubbed two fingers between his lower optics. "Prowl, Prowl, Prowl. Of course that's how you met the hot investigator from the Palace." He looked up, in the fine tradition of being eldest never too busy to tease his younger sibling. "Or were you too busy being the Perfect Upstanding Enforcer to notice he's hot?"

"Yes," Prowl lied.

"Liar," Barricade said, amused. "Anyway, I had Smokescreen put him in one of the guest suites and extended an invitation to fuel with us tonight. You're fuelling at the table with us tonight, by the way, like someone who isn't addicted to their work."

"Barricade –"

"I have Creator's authority, you know. Don't make me order you."

Prowl sighed. "Very well."

True, Prowl didn't have anything pressing to do right now, but he would have preferred to spend the evening reading or playing fullstasis online with fellow aficionados. _Not_ entertaining. Prowl was not good at entertaining, one of the reasons he was glad to be a second and not a first creation. Barricade had been sparked to rule and command, Prowl to provide either logistical or strategic-tactical support as necessary. Prowl could determine which caterers and musicians and decorators would be best for a party, based on predictive algorithms, but Barricade was the one who would enjoy it.

Barricade, and Jazz of Staniz it seemed. Prowl might not always understand the best ways to interact with people, but he had a wide range of tactics to help make it look like he did. Part of that was the ability to determine personality traits, and he could tell that Jazz was a highly sociable mech. Prowl's opposite.

Then again, Jazz worked in investigations, which was Prowl's preferred role. He enjoyed speed, as did Prowl – though only in legally acceptable ways, such as on high-speed roads and racetracks. For Jazz to hold the position he did, he had to be intelligent, capable of logic. Skilled. He would not have been sent on a mission of such import, otherwise.

As Barricade had mentioned, he was also hot. Not that it was appropriate for Prowl to notice that right now. Prowl had a hard-and-fast rule against becoming involved with people he worked with. He'd made that mistake before, but only once.

Only once.

Barricade's current romantic partner, Swift, was unavailable so it was just the three of them for dinner. Prowl wished she were there so the conversation could at least be divided between four instead of three, minimizing the need for him to take part. Prowl was not good at small talk. He failed to see the point of unnecessary conversation, something Barricade teased him about at every opportunity. Barricade was, Prowl had been told, very good at it and Prowl was quite happy to leave him to it.

One tendency Prowl had noticed in people who did well with small talk was a desire to draw everyone else into their interactions and Jazz did nothing to break this pattern. He kept asking Prowl questions, attempting to draw him out and, despite Prowl's brief answers, flirting.

Prowl did not escape at the first opportunity. He made a strategic withdrawal.

* * *

Jazz had hoped that the strict Enforcer would relax when he was off duty and at home. He didn't get his wish. Prowl was just as stern-looking as he had been on the highway and, if possible, less conversational. Barricade, Prowl's older sibling, was a lot more gregarious, exchanging anecdotes with Jazz and responding to his light flirting, even though Barricade had politely let Jazz know he was involved and it wasn't going to go anywhere. Too bad, but apparently Barricade's current partner wasn't around to ask if Jazz could come in and play.

Jazz had also hoped that Prowl would loosen up as the evening went on but the nano-klik it was polite Prowl left. Sure, he said he was going to get some info together that might help Jazz, but Jazz knew an excuse when he heard one. So much for that idea.

"Sorry about my sib," Barricade apologized. "He's not that great with, um, people. Great at being a cop, though."

"Real 'by-the-book' type, isn't he?" Jazz asked.

"He is," Barricade confirmed.

Yeah, definitely a good thing Jazz hadn't tried to charm his way out of those fines. Especially now that it looked like he'd be working with the mech pretty closely over the next however long this took.

After they'd parted ways for the night, Jazz waited in his rooms just long enough to be sure any family members and upper servants were in bed for the night. Then, he found the entrance to the servant's passage hidden between the walls of the suite and started to explore the Tower. Not before he'd fancied up the lock on the passage door and the main one, of course. Sure, they looked the same, but it'd be a lot harder for someone to enter the room while he was out. Jazz hadn't left anything sensitive lying around, of course, but it was the principle of the thing, not to mention an excellent way to find out of there were a hexa-mole or two in the Tower.

The servant's passages were clean and well-kept, but they had a strong unused feeling to them. Jazz had seen servant-mecha during dinner, but he wondered if Jaspidus preferred to use drones or if they just didn't require their servants to pretend they didn't exist. Easy enough to figure out, with the right bit of eavesdropping and a conveniently placed partner. It had been easy to slip Skids in as cleaning staff since turnover in that department, anywhere, always ran high. A new faceplate wouldn't raise any questions and Skids had a talent for blending into the background while absorbing information. People talked _around_ Skids, and the operative had learned to use that to his advantage and, therefore, Jazz's.

Jazz made his way to the passage just outside the servant's quarters, up in the attic, listening to the chatter as people made their way up to their rooms. There was a fair bit of it, and it didn't sound bitter, fearful, or resentful. Good signs, not sounds of dissent. Jazz set up a distortion field, waited, and soon Skids slipped into the passageway.

"Hey, mech, how's it going?" Jazz asked, keeping his voice low. The distortion field should keep them from being overheard, but it never hurt to be careful. "The first day wasn't too rough?"

"Not at all," Skids answered, also keeping his voice down. "There's a lot to do, but not so much the staff gets overwhelmed. Pay's good, morale's good, and so long as you do what you're supposed to do when you're supposed to do it and obey the rules, you won't have a problem."

"Strict rules, strict schedule?"

Skids shrugged. "Not to the point of being unreasonable. From what I can tell the staff is kept busy on a continuous cycle of maintenance, but overtime is rare. You can get everything done if you work steadily. The family has minimal contact with the staff but when someone leaves, unless they've been a real problem, it's pretty much guaranteed Lord Prowl will sign off on the housekeeper's letter of recommendation," Skids told him. "I guess he oversees household matters for Jaspidus now that Barricade is acting Marquess."

"What's the feeling about the family?" Jazz wanted to know.

"One of the better Houses to work for," Skids replied. "Oversight, but not too much, good pay, no crowding three and four and five mecha into a room." And servant's rooms, Jazz knew, were not precisely on the generous side. Two was usually right up against the limit. "Attention is paid to temperament and personality when assigning tasks and roommates, too."

"So there's some effort put into keeping the staff happy," Jazz concluded. Okay, that made it less likely he'd be looking for collusion here. Happy people didn't rebel. "Anyone floated any political opinions yet?"

Skids shook his head. "Not yet, but that isn't exactly something you blab to the new guy. Give it a few days for me to stop being a novelty, and everyone's vocalizer queues should relax a little."

"Sure. Ping me when you hear something, alright?"

Skids gave him a quick salute. "You got it, boss. Luck."

"Luck," Jazz repeated.

Skids vanished back into the servant's quarters, and Jazz resumed his prowl through the Tower. Speaking of prowls…he slipped silently through the walls until he found the servant's door leading into Lord Prowl's study. The door fit the frame well, but there was enough room to snake a thin fibre-optic probe through between the bottom and the floor. No matter how well-built, every building shifted over time, and this part of Tower Jaspidus wasn’t new. Not that a lack of a gap between door and jamb would have stopped Jazz, but better to avoid drilling even tiny holes if he could.

Jazz had been hoping to slip inside and do a little preliminary rifling through Prowl's files, but the mech was still up and working. Really working, from what Jazz could tell, not using the quiet and privacy of nighttime to do anything unbecoming an officer.

Jazz would have bet real shanix that Prowl had the _really_ kinky stuff hidden in a partition on a drive somewhere. The quiet uptight types almost always did.

Jazz watched Prowl for a quarter cycle, and the mech didn't do anything but work. Even the glow of his optics was dimmed to increase his concentration on his research. Barricade either hadn't given his sibling any of the research he'd done, hadn't done it in this depth, or hadn't done any.

Getting bored, and needing to cover the other two studies in the house before he did get some recharge, Jazz reeled back the probe and headed to Barricade's study. Hopefully, workaholism didn't run in the family.

It didn't, or at least not to the same degree Prowl's did, but Barricade's study didn't yield much either. Barricade's current project was flood relief in the areas along the river, the one before that was approving roadworks, and he liked to visit Moonglide's when he was in Iacon City. There wasn't a whole lot else, even in that partition Jazz found on his console's drive – Barricade was a bit old to be accessing a file called 'school projects' so frequently. Good taste, though.

Marquess Hunter's study, unsurprisingly since he was gone, yielded even less. Jazz would have known about Hunter's romance with young Breakneck even if he hadn’t had a dossier on the family. It had been the talk of the aristocratic gossip mill for some time, dancing on that fine line between scandalous and deeply romantic. Jazz copied some of the messages, voice and text both, from Hunter's console and played a couple of them back. There wasn't anything incriminating. Going by the adolescent feel of their messages, it seemed like Breakneck made Hunter feel young again, and they were genuinely smitten with one another. Jazz left off searching Hunter's data.

Jazz checked in on Barricade, but the acting Marquess was soundly in recharge – and should probably see a medic about that noise his cooling systems were making. Swinging by Prowl's study on the way back for a little more fibre-optic spying, he saw that the Lord Enforcer was still up. Damn. Jazz would just have to get the info from him tomorrow with no sneak peek beforehand. Jazz looked in on Prowl's rooms too but didn't do more than a quick check. Even workaholics had to rest sometime, and Jazz didn't want to risk making Prowl suspicious of anything, and he had a feeling Prowl knew precisely where each item in his rooms was. Down to the micrometre, probably, and Jazz didn't want to have to take the time for fine adjustments if his Lordship came back suddenly.

Well, the night hadn't been a total waste. Jazz knew something about the family's habits and private lives now. He knew he didn't need to bother looking more deeply into Hunter and Barricade and he _seriously_ doubted Lord Law-and-Order of Workaholism would be involved in an assassination plot. He'd wait until he got another report from Skids, but Jazz was pretty sure that wherever the conspiracy was from, it didn't involve Jaspidus.


	2. Chapter 2

Jazz wasn't surprised, the next morning, to see Prowl had arrived at the breakfast table before everyone else and was absently sipping his fuel while reading something on his tablet. A separate datapad was already waiting at the place opposite him. Jazz guessed that was the data Prowl had collected for him during last night's late-running work session.

"Morning, Prowl," Jazz greeted him cheerfully. "Hey, about yesterday – "

Prowl did not even look up. "If you are about to inform me that you think we 'got off on the wrong foot' yesterday and that we should 'start over' or similar, please do not bother."

Wow. Okay, then. No point in trying to make friends here. Jazz was pretty sure he had this mech's measure anyway. Instead, Jazz jacked himself into the datapad and downloaded the information, branching off a processing thread to analyze it and provide him with a precis.

Prowl had already included one with the data. Well. Jazz pulled that up on his HUD and read through it while he did his own analysis of the data anyway. Turned out Prowl's analysis was as good as, maybe better than, the one Jazz did. Mech might be blunt and uptight but damn if he didn't know how to get to the core of something. Smart _and_ gorgeous _and_ in control. Too bad he seemed determined not to like Jazz.

"Good job on the analysis," Jazz offered, earning him a not-grumpy 'thank you.' He continued, "look, okay, I won't do the whole 'wrong foot' speech, but how about an apology? I should've paid more attention to the speed limit notice, and I shouldn't have gone over, no matter how fantastic your roads are."

Was it his imagination, or did those shoulders and doors relax a little?

"Very well," Prowl acknowledged. "But if you wish to race in future, please use the House's track and not the public roads and highways. Your rank will not prevent you from receiving increasing fines should you continue to violate the laws."

Jazz wanted to be mad about that, but he had to admit Prowl had a point. There was a good number of mecha with titles, money, or both who figured that put them out of reach of the laws. Sadly, they were right more often than Jazz liked, especially if they happened to be one of Sentinel's friends. Alpha Trion stopped it when he could, but even a king couldn't be everywhere. Orion tried to be a mitigating influence, but he had the same problem. It still didn't justify trying to assassinate the Crown Prince though.

"I don't expect to be," Jazz assured him. "Use the House track when I need some speed, gotcha. So," he changed topics, "got any ideas about where we should start looking for this lot?"

"One of my colleagues has a confidential informant who may be able to provide you with assistance," Prowl informed him. "Deep Cover will meet you in the lower market district at 11:30 cycles and make the introductions. I've included the GPS coordinates of your meeting point in the data packet."

"Yeah, sure. Hey, thanks for asking first," Jazz shot back, nettled.

Prowl looked up at him, frowning slightly. Damn, those optics were blue… "It was more efficient to arrange the meeting when I was speaking to him earlier this morning than to wait for you. Deep Cover's contact information is also included in the data packet. If you wish to contact him to reschedule you may do so, but it will likely only delay your investigation and damage Deep Cover's relationship with his CI."

Jazz wanted to argue, but Prowl was right. "Just ask next time instead of making plans for me, okay?"

Prowl returned his attention to his tablet. "If you insist." _On being inefficient,_ he did not say, even though his tone implied it.

Jazz could not resist trying to needle him. "You don't work with a partner often, do you?"

"It isn't necessary or possible. My social position means that I am not able to work as an Enforcer full-time."

Jazz, who had cheerfully dumped social obligations in his twin's lap and effectively run away from home, wondered if Prowl regretted not doing the same. Probably not: Prowl seemed too upright and responsible to do anything like that. Jazz kind of wanted to ask, but jus then Barricade entered, and a conversation with _someone_ was finally possible, so Jazz let it be. For now.

* * *

Deep Cover didn't look like the other Iacon Enforcers, major or Minor, Jazz was familiar with which he supposed was the point. Jazz had changed his colours slightly, swapping his whites for silver and adding some more blue pinstriping down the sides of his alt mode. Not a significant change but enough. He'd also switched to one of his other RFIDs just in case: Blueshift of Teledonia, he/him.

The informant was named Slink. She met them in a slightly run-down park that was bordered by the backs of apartment buildings on one side and a group of determinedly cheerful stalls selling cheap and cheaply made goods. Blueshift had, should anyone look into him, lived in a district a lot like this back in Teledonia and fit right in. He also listened more than he spoke and hung back while Deep Cover talked to them. Slink didn't know where the possible conspirators were, but she had a few leads on groups who might know something. Deep Cover got her to agree set up a meet and swore up and down that Blueshift was alright. As she left, after promising to be in touch with a date and a time for the meeting, Blueshift got her with a tiny bug that would track her movements and stream GPS data back to its monitoring software along with an audio feed triggered by specific keywords.

Blueshift hadn't made it this long by not being cautious.

Once Slink left, Blueshift and Deep Cover roamed the market district for a while, pretending to look through the stalls for things they might need. Deep Cover steered them towards a pub, and they bought inexpensive high-grade and settled down to mech-watch and listen. If anyone had asked, Blueshift was a friend of Deep Cover's just in from Teledonia, but no one did.

It was mid-afternoon when Blueshift transformed and headed toward the outskirts of town. Jazz shifted back to his default coloration under a darkened, surveillance-free underpass and drove, at the speed limit yes Prowl, back to Jaspidus Tower. Jazz wanted to cross-reference Slink's GPS trail with the map Prowl no doubt had with hot spots of known criminal activity. Maybe it'd give up something the CI hadn't told them about. Jazz definitely wasn't looking for another way to try and break the ice with Prowl, or find an excuse to listen to him talk, nope, not at all.

* * *

Prowl would have preferred to have worked full time as an Enforcer, but the family estates were styled so that it required at least two family members to run them at peak efficiency. At least right now Prowl had Jazz's investigation to help with. Prowl spent a relaxing morning sifting through multiple datasets seeking clues. He had just finished when Smokescreen appeared, alerting him that Jazz had returned and would like to see him.

"Show him to my study, please, Smokescreen," Prowl told his steward. "And, from now on, there is no need to announce Jazz. He may simply request access to the study using the chime."

The fewer formalities he had to deal with, the shorter the investigator's visit would be. (Though Prowl feared there was little that would lessen his sibling's teasing. Barricade, having picked up on the fact Prowl had noticed Jazz's physical attractiveness unquestionably _would not let it go._ )

Smokescreen showed Jazz in and disappeared back into the halls. It was mid-afternoon, and he should be conferring with the gardeners if everything ran according to Prowl's schedules, which it always did. Smokescreen would brief Prowl on today's events at their meeting tomorrow. The meeting was held every third of a deca-cycle and included an overview of estate purchases, maintenance, gardening, Jaspidus's stable of zap ponies, and, once a deca-cycle, staffing.

Prowl left the data analysis program running on his terminal and switched some of the work he'd been doing internally to a background processing thread. He was determined to be polite to Jazz, even if he could manage nothing else.

"Good afternoon, Jazz," Prowl began, aware he sounded stiff and formal but seeing no reason to change it.

"Hey, your Lordship," Jazz said jovially. Without being invited to sit, he pulled a chair up on the opposite side of Prowl's desk and dropped down into it. The chair, an antique, creaked and Prowl made a note to tell Smokescreen tomorrow to have the estate's maintenance team to have a look at it soon. And to replace his visitor's chairs with something more modern and stable for the duration of Jazz's visit.

"Jazz," Prowl replied, hoping the other mech would accept his exclusion of titles as an attempt at creating an accord. "Was your meeting this morning successful?"

"Little bit? The CI didn't have anything we could use, but she set up a meet. Should get more info then," Jazz replied. "I tagged her with a tracker before she left, though, and she hasn't found it yet. You've got a map of hotspots I can use to compare to her GPS trail?"

"Wait for five more kliks, and I will have completed an analysis of relevant data, including likely locations, and you can cross-reference with that," Prowl informed him. "I assume you wish to determine the trustworthiness of the CI, despite Deep Cover's trust in them?"

For some reason, annoyance flickered over Jazz's features. "Do you mean to sound insulting, or is it just the way you are?"

Prowl reset his optics, surprised by the bluntness of the question. "It is the way I am and always have been. Why do you assume I'm trying to insult you, as opposed to asking for clarification?"

"It's the _way_ you ask it, mech!" Jazz visibly made an effort to calm himself down. "Look, if it's just the way you are I'll deal with it. We don't gotta work together long, anyway."

Prowl made a shallow nod of agreement. "We do not. Do you have anything you wish to discuss while we await the results of the analysis or shall I send it to you once it's done?"

"I'm guessing you don't mean to sound dismissive?" Jazz asked, and Prowl thought it might be a genuine question. "I don't have anything I wanna discuss but maybe you might? Anything you think might be relevant?"

Prowl wanted to say that if he did, he would have brought it up already or included it in the analysis, but he _did_ have to work with Jazz, and there was friction enough between them already.

"I've included the relevant information in the analysis, but I can tell you of a few areas in which I expect to see positive results," Prowl offered. "Perhaps that would assist you in further narrowing your areas of investigation?"

Jazz shrugged. "Can't hurt? Lay it on me, mech."

Prowl took a nano-klik to organize his thoughts for presentation to another person and began.

* * *

Prowl had been right about the areas with positive results, but that wasn't the only reason Jazz kept thinking about them as he compared Slink's GPS trail to Prowl's map. Prowl had suggested three restaurants, two nightclubs, and one empty warehouse on the docks as likely meeting places. Based on the GPS trail, it looked like Prowl had been right, but Jazz kept getting distracted thinking about his voice rather than his info. Sure, he was stiff and formal, but it was clear he knew his subject and enjoyed investigative work. He'd gotten less stiff and formal the longer he talked and Jazz – well, if Jazz said he hadn't enjoyed hearing Prowl warm to his subject, that'd make him a liar. Too bad the mech himself wasn't more approachable. He was a competent, thorough, investigator, though: half Jazz's work was done for him. Jazz picked out the names of the three mecha most likely to give them leads and sent them to Deep Cover to look into further. Blueshift might be a friend of Deep Cover's, but that didn't mean he was going to get taken along on every meeting. It'd look suspicious if he did, in fact, and that left Jazz at loose ends for the evening.

By loose ends, he meant, 'able to explore Iacon Minor's nightlife to his spark's content,' of course. Not that there was a whole lot, what with it being a work night and all, but Jazz made the rounds anyway, just to see. Decent crowds, decent music, probably better on the weekends. Jazz danced, drank a little, flirted, nearly took someone up on an offer until it proved they weren't as single as they claimed, and got back to Jaspidus late.

That gave him the perfect excuse to be in the hallways if anyone saw him. Little too much – oh. No. Claiming he'd overcharged would not end well because the footmech on duty had seen him drive himself back. If Prowl thought Jazz had been driving drunk, it'd erase whatever progress Jazz had made in actually getting along with him. So much for 'accidentally' stumbling into Prowl's study for a look. Jazz would have to head back to his own rooms and slip into the servant's halls again.

Prowl must have run out of work to do because, when Jazz crept down and used his fibre-optic probe to check, his study was dark. Prowl's terminal had more security on it than Barricade's had, but Jazz was able to get through anyway. Like Barricade's terminal, Prowl's had a separate partition on it that got accessed regularly, but he wasn't storing porn like his sibling. Not unless he got off to spreadsheets, at least. (Jazz had heard of weirder but hey, to each their own so long as no one was harmed, right?)

Jazz gave the spreadsheets a quick read. They recorded shanix going out, but none coming in, though Jazz couldn't figure out just from looking what the names of the payees meant. It didn't seem to be embezzlement – and that thought and Prowl just _did not_ go together – especially because the shanix was coming out of Prowl's personal stipend, not the estate accounts. It wasn't a massive sum of money, especially by Towers standards, but each amount would be enough to make a difference for average-income mecha. Bribery? Blackmail? Jazz couldn't picture Prowl doing the first, and he couldn't imagine Prowl doing anything someone could blackmail _him_ over.

Someone could be blackmailing Barricade or Hunter, maybe? Maybe Prowl, or someone else, had a secret lover, though why it would be a secret Jazz couldn't guess. A Towers mech having a paramour on the side wouldn't be anything to lose traction over. Primus, it was practically expected! Hunter certainly hadn't kept his relationship with Breakneck secret and nothing worse than gossip had come out of that.

Jazz did some more searching through Prowl's files and found Prowl had done a thorough background check on his creator's new young partner. Jazz got that, he'd have done the same thing. He didn't find anything out of the ordinary or a key to deciphering the meaning of the spreadsheets. Prowl was tracking something on them alright, but it was something not meant for optics other than his.

Curious now, Jazz retreated back to his quarters, loaded his copied spreadsheets into a secure tablet, and set about searching out the designations that were recorded there. They all connected to real mecha, sure enough, and those mecha were…huh. Each of them was either an employee of Jaspidus or related to an employee of Jaspidus somehow. Least, that was what it looked like.

Jazz sent Skids a list of the names of employees who'd been getting the largest payouts and asked him to do a little gentle digging. See if what was going on was the real deal or not. He hadn't marked it as an urgent message, so he was surprised to get a reply sent to him right away.

 _Will do, boss. Got some info on a couple of those designations already, though. Finestreak's got a_ conjunx _with some kind of spark irregularity who can't work; Electrogear has a creation with an outlier ability who attends a private school and his budget's pretty tight – this is his second job; Crossguard's kind of like Finestreak – mentor, was in an accident, and they can't work. This all came up in casual conversation while they forgot I was there. They all get some kind of stipend from a 'private charitable organization' to help them out. Guess we found out who that is._

Yeah, and it was a grumpy workaholic with, apparently, a spark of gold. Jazz found himself being irrationally annoyed with the idea that Prowl wasn't as abrasive and uptight as Jazz had pegged him as being. (Had wanted him to be if he were honest with himself.) But still…he sent a reply asking Skids why he thought Prowl would keep it secret if it were on the up-and-up. Surprisingly, especially given the cycle, Skids commed him with an answer instead of glyphs.

' _Okay, so…here's the thing,'_ Skids said hesitantly. ' _You're like Prowl, you're a Towers noble, so you won't really get it but here goes. When you're a peasant, and you're getting charity from the nobles, there's this real fear that they'll either expect something back for it, or it'll be yanked out from under you if – well, if they feel like it. Do something your benefactor doesn't approve of, doesn't even have to make sense, and there goes your help. Some of 'em might even demand repayment and, well…'_ Skids trailed off uneasily, and Jazz had the sudden awful realization that Skids was worried that _Jazz_ would pull some of that slag because Skids had said something he didn't like. Never mind that Jazz had asked, apparently.

' _Okay, yeah. I get it.'_

Skids was quiet for a couple nano-kliks then said, ' _no, you don't, but I think you understood what I meant.'_

' _Yeah. Prowl's screening his help behind a 'private charitable organization' 'cause those have rules and regs, and the mecha he's helping won't worry about the funds they need getting yanked. No feelings of obligation. Thanks, Skids. I'll let you get back to sleep. G'night.'_

_'Good night, sir.'_

Jazz didn't care for being called 'sir,' but he didn't think that reminding Skids he didn't have to do that would make this any less awkward, so he let it go.

So Prowl was a grumpy workaholic with a spark of gold who made sure his people got help when they needed it and did it in such a way they wouldn't feel obligated or worried about getting it yanked. Maybe Jazz should just stop trying to figure the mech out at all, 'cause apparently he wasn't a grumpy, abrasive, workaholic who just happened to be gorgeous. No, no, that wasn't enough. He had to be kind and genuinely noble on top of that. Knight in shining armour – literally and metaphorically – and Jazz must have some of the Fallen in him because he wanted to see that armour metaphorically scuffed up and like everyone else's.

His imagination helpfully supplied him with an image of a Prowl so scuffed up, with familiar-looking black-and-white paint transfers instead of generic scrapes. Jazz scowled at it and firmly put the thought out of his mind. Prowl would just as soon ticket him again – probably just as soon take a stun baton to him - as agree to a fun tumble or two. Besides, Prowl was probably as arrogantly in charge in the bedroom as he was everywhere else and Jazz – well, he was into that, but he wasn't into the idea of it with Prowl. He definitely wasn't picturing that now, either.

Right?

* * *

Prowl met with Smokescreen over breakfast, as usual. He thought nothing of sitting down to fuel with one of his servants, finding it a better use of time than only taking his energon in silence. Prowl rose much earlier than his sibling and creator and did not generally have them for company at this time. Smokescreen had to be up early to give the staff their day's orders, so it worked out well.

Estate purchases, maintenance, and gardening were all the same as they had been at the previous meeting, unsurprisingly. There was a minor virus affecting the zap ponies, but the veterinarian had assured Smokescreen it could be cleared up with no loss of or damage to the herd. Staffing was similarly unchanged in terms of payments, retirements, and turnover but one data point stood out to Prowl. He frowned.

"This new addition to the cleaning staff, Skids," Prowl began. "He arrived on the same mega-cycle as Jazz. Where was he last employed?"

"Skids was last employed by Lady Firestar of Kalis, my lord," Smokescreen answered. "He was released from service when her Ladyship decided to visit relatives on Luna One for a meta-cycle. His last day was the day the family Tower was closed and shuttered for her absence, only four mega-cycles ago."

"Three," Prowl said softly though certainly not gently. "Three mega-cycles ago. I was playing fullstasis online with Firestar four mega-cycles ago, and she specifically mentioned her departure was the _next_ mega-cycle. Lady Firestar is precise; she would not make a mistake on her departure time."

Prowl accessed and read the rest of Skids's documentation. The same error in the timeline was present throughout, and he noted other inconsistencies as well. Taken on their own the errors meant little, but all together they suggested something Prowl did not like one bit. He looked back up at Smokescreen.

"Where is Jazz?"

* * *

Jazz had just left his rooms for the day and started down the hall, intending to grab some fuel and then hit the racetrack while he waited to hear from Deep Cover. He was humming softly to himself and had just hit the turn to the breakfast room when he saw Prowl heading toward him. The Lord Enforcer had his stern professional face on, and his doors were flared wide and flattened forward; he was _not_ happy. It was apparent he was unhappy with Jazz.

What the frag? Did Prowl think he'd driven back here overcharged after all? Jazz couldn't think of anything else it would be.

"You planted an agent in my staff," Prowl informed him, coming to an abrupt, parade-rest stop in front of him. "You will tell me why."

When Jazz figured out who'd screwed up Skids' cover, they were going to have _words_.

"Yeah, I did," Jazz answered boldly. "And I did it because we didn't know where the problem started. Could've been in your staff. Could've not been. He's just there to listen in and report back to me, like Deep Cover's CI."

"The difference being," Prowl said, angry but still in command, maintaining that cold professionalism, "that I am _aware_ of Deep Cover's CI. Do you have any reason to suspect _anyone_ in my household? Any member of my family?"

Now Jazz was starting to get annoyed as well. "An agent in your household isn’t gonna do me a whole lot of good if you and yours know who they are!"

"Had you done the slightest research into my character, you would have known I can be depended upon to keep a confidence," Prowl bit back.

"I did do my research," Jazz retorted, stung by the accusation of not having done his job right. Though he had to admit that _someone_ hadn't if he was having this confrontation right now! "That's why I'm working with you outright instead of using undercover agents for the whole thing!"

"The same is true of my sibling, who, as the acting Marquess, should certainly have been apprised." Prowl tilted his head and regarded Jazz with a critical look that Jazz really, _really_ shouldn't have been turned on by right now. "Or did you not research him sufficiently either?"

"Of course I did, but for all I know, your slagging sibling's helping them out!" Jazz snapped and wasn't that a stupid thing to say because he _did_ know Barricade wasn't doing any such thing. He just – he wanted to break the bastard Enforcer's calm, make him angry, get a reaction, get _something_. It was stupid and reckless and…

…and working. Prowl's optics flared and his shoulders stiffened. "I would arrest him _myself_ if I thought that idea was at all valid! You know this, do you not?"

"Yeah, I know you would!" Jazz shot back, and for some reason, Prowl's 'private charitable organization' spreadsheets came to mind. "You're too fragging noble and upstanding to do anything else!"

"Then _why do you attempt to anger me?_ "

"Because!" Jazz shouted, taking a step forward. "'Cause I wanna get you down here and all scuffed up and scratched like the rest of us mortals and even _then_ you'd still be gorgeous and fraggable and-and…" Fuck! Jazz had _not_ meant to say that out loud. Something about Prowl just did it for - _to_ him. To him.

"'Gorgeous and fraggable?'" Prowl repeated in a low tone that was sexy and thrilling and _dammit_ _Jazz_!

"Yeah," Jazz said, recklessly ignoring higher reasoning, glaring at Prowl levelly. "'s what I said. Gonna do something about it?"

Prowl's optics narrowed. "You sound as if you want to make me 'do something.'"

Jazz had the same feeling he did when he was speeding too fast down an unfamiliar, steep, road, knowing he should slow down but not wanting to lose the thrill. "Maybe I do."

Prowl must have been feeling the same thing because he got into Jazz's space. "Then do it," he ordered.

If Prowl hadn't made it an order maybe it would have been different, but he had, so…

Jazz yanked him in close, hooking an ankle around the other noble's leg to keep him in place, and kissed him, hot, hard, and demanding. Prowl took charge, aggressively deepened the kiss and _holy Primus in the Core,_ how had Jazz ever thought this mech was cold? If he'd known this was what would happen when he got Prowl to lose his temper he'd have done it first thing! Jazz gave up any thought of controlling the kiss and got his hands on the panels on Prowl's sides that covered his cables and ports. He just barely stroked the seams and Prowl opened for him, but that was just a feint because the moment Jazz was distracted by the dozens of smooth, polymer-coated, cables slipping through his fingers Prowl grabbed his hands and pinned them above his head. One of his lordship's hands closed tight over Jazz's wrists with the clear intent of keeping them there, but Jazz had other ideas.

The bite didn't serve to distract Prowl, but Jazz thought he almost got the other flipped around only to have Prowl counter and get _Jazz_ down on his back. _Fragging Pit_ , how had he done that?

"Ain't many mechs can get me here," Jazz commented, pinned by Prowl's weight astride him, his systems roaring with lust.

"A shame," Prowl countered, looming over him. "You seem to enjoy it."

Jazz wriggled under him, but not to get away. "Lemme jack into you, and I'll show you what I enjoy."

"No." Prowl pinned Jazz's hands to the floor, one on either side of his head. "You'll find I'm not so easy to cable with, King's mech."

Jazz grinned at him. "Oh yeah? Which one of us has their panels open, your Lordship?" With those lovely, slick cables with their iridescent coating hanging down all tempting-like, connectors gleaming as they swung out of the shadow of Prowl's body. Jazz wanted to touch them, to slide them through his fingers and tease the sensor-rich tips of the slender, banded, jacks. He wanted to drive Prowl wild with need by pushing the jacks into his ports _almost_ but not _quite_ deep enough to lock in place while static electricity crackled between them.

"You want me, do you?" Prowl's knees squeezed Jazz's hips. "Very well. _Earn_ me."

Then, just as abruptly as they'd started this, Prowl let Jazz go and stood up, cables reeling in and panels closing.

"I believe your duties are waiting for you," Prowl informed Jazz coolly, back in that goddam parade rest, managing to ramp up Jazz's charge without actually touching him. "I will be in my study, working, for the remainder of the day. If you wish to continue this, come find me when you have solved the problem."

Jazz stared at Prowl's back as the noblemech walked serenely away, once again as cool as the stone floor beneath him. If Prowl's charge was ramped up anywhere near as high as Jazz's, he didn't show it.

 _Fragging glitch! 'Earn me' my fender!_ Well, fine, if that's the way Prowl wanted to play it, Jazz could jam to that beat. He flipped up onto his feet and headed off to 'solve the problem.'

Just as soon as he'd taken care of this charge.


	3. Chapter 3

Deep Cover contacted Jazz about midday to let him know that Slink had been able to set up a meet with their possible assassins that night, in a private room at a nightclub. It wasn't one Jazz had visited the night before, but it _was_ one of the two Prowl had identified as a hotspot and which corresponded with the GPS coordinates Jazz had gotten from Slink's movements. It wasn't the kind of club mecha with Jazz's social rank would go to, typically, but it was the kind of place that Blueshift might visit on his long-anticipated vacation. Jazz went through Blueshift's cover, triple-checking that none of the tells that might have given Skids away were present. Then he spent the afternoon on Jaspidus's track, which was even better for driving than the highways he'd been admiring, fuelled lightly – Prowl was absent from the table – in the evening, and headed out. Once again, Jazz of Staniz disappeared, and Blueshift of Teledonia took his place.

Slink had arranged the meet and so she met them at the door of the club, which was called Chainbeat, led them inside, and introduced them to a black-and-purple mech designated Kickback. Blueshift liked his charm but knew to be wary: Jazz picked up an undercurrent of manipulation and sleaze.

Like he had before, Blueshift let Deep Cover do most of the talking while he listened. Kickback was genial, welcoming, and subtly manipulative. Blueshift let himself be lulled, just a little, into complaining about Prince Sentinel, giving off just enough dissatisfaction to mark himself for recruitment without actually drifting into the treason lane. He used undertones to seed the idea that he might not be against it, though, if it were the only way. Operations like this could take anywhere from a few mega-cycles to over a meta-cycle, but Kickback made it sound like something would happen soon. Well, maybe it would and maybe it wouldn't, it was too early to tell what was for real and what was recruiting pitch right now. Blueshift was sure he knew what was 'test,' but Jazz went over it in the background to make sure. So far, so good.

Blueshift stayed late into the night, a couple of times making suggestions he was going to leave only to let Kickback 'convince' him to stay. The club was closing up around them by the time Kickback finally let them go, hopefully assured that Blueshift was the suggestible type. Suggestible types were always useful. Blueshift wasn't an assassin himself, oh no, but he could easily be muscle, a spotter if they really needed one maybe. One thing was always true; no matter what your organization, someone still had to do the grunt work.

Blueshift 'charged on Deep Cover's couch for what was left of the night. Jazz sneaked back to Jaspidus early in the morning. Usually, he'd sow the idea that he'd spent the night with some lucky mech but after that morning with Prowl…maybe not such a good idea. Jazz had had less than a klik pinned under the other mech, but he wanted more and a one-night-stand with someone else, faked or otherwise, wouldn't get him that.

It was early, but Prowl was probably up already. Jazz went to the breakfast room and found out he was right; the noble was fuelling and intently focused on something on a tablet. Breakfast was set out on a sideboard for mecha to help themselves and Jazz did so, wondering if Prowl were ignoring him or genuinely hadn't noticed he was there. At least Prowl looked up when Jazz sat down across from him, though that could have been Jazz making himself impossible to ignore by clattering and humming.

"Good morning, Jazz," Prowl said in a tone that gave nothing away. "Did your meeting prove useful?"

"Might have an in," Jazz answered. "We'll see. Groundwork's been laid," oh, wrong choice of words, there, Jazz. He hurried on. "It's all looking good so far."

"Excellent. And the other matter?"

There were a couple of other matters Jazz could think of, and he wasn't sure which one Prowl meant. Jazz didn't particularly want to discuss either of them here, where servants or siblings could just walk in, so he just gave a neutral answer.

"Same as before."

Prowl hadn't been looking at him before; now, his gaze flicked up to meet Jazz's. It still didn't give anything away. "I see." He finished his fuel and 'spaced his tablet as he stood. "If you'll excuse me, I am expected on patrol shortly."

"Sure." Jazz added, spontaneously, "hey, wanna meet me on your racetrack later today?"

Prowl looked at him, just long enough Jazz began to regret asking. "Yes. I will comm you when I return," he said finally. "Good day, Jazz."

"Yeah, you too."

Well, that'd gone better than Jazz expected. He wondered how long patrol shifts were in Iacon Minor, anyway.

* * *

Prowl had hoped for a quiet, orderly patrol shift but it was not to be. First, Barricade waylaid him in the front hall as he was leaving to needle him about his sexual tension with Jazz. The most annoying part was that Prowl couldn't even deny it, not after what had happened yesterday morning. Jazz might be attractive, but he was also infuriating. Even so, it was clear he liked it when Prowl asserted control over him. It was an appealing, volatile, combination and it had nearly made Prowl break his own rule about not becoming involved with those he worked with. He'd broken away at the last nano-klik but hadn't been able to resist exerting further authority by setting Jazz a condition, and it was no coincidence that meeting it also mean they would no longer be coworkers. Prowl couldn’t help wondering how soon Jazz was going to be able to fulfill it.

Prowl was able to escape Barricade's teasing at last by pointing out he didn't want to be late for his shift. It was a relief to check in with Dispatch and get his route for the day, soothing to get back into his routine and Prowl felt the edge he'd had since yesterday begin to wear down.

Mid-way through his patrol, he got a comm from his student, Prince Orion Pax. Prowl would not usually take a personal call during his shift, but one did not turn down one of the royals. Besides, he knew Orion wouldn't contact him outside of a scheduled lesson or his known leisure time.

' _My prince,_ ' Prowl acknowledged. ' _How may I be of service?_ '

' _Prowl, you know you don't need to be formal with me,_ ' Orion reminded him. ' _I know you're probably on patrol or something, but I need to talk to you._ '

' _Of course._ ' Prowl was fond of the young prince, and this wasn't the first time he'd acted as a sounding board. ' _Proceed_.'

' _It's Sentinel. He wants to go turbofox hunting this weekend, and he's refusing to take extra guards with him. I don't think he's going to listen to Creator, I think he's going to sneak away early. Prowl, he says he doesn’t want to appear afraid, but this is just – I don't know what to do._ '

Privately, Prowl doubted the concern would be as strongly reciprocated if Orion were the one potentially going into danger, but he didn't say so. A half-dozen plans for handling this leapt to his mind.

' _Orion. Did he say where he is going?_ '

 _'Yes, to Retoris. Earl Contrail of House Chatoyant has an estate there that's being overrun, apparently._ '

Prowl knew it. It was close enough to Iacon Minor for the prince to be a tempting target. ' _Orion. I know you won't want to hear this but let him go. Don't try to keep it a secret. We can use this._ '

' _You're sure?_ '

' _I am. I will confer with Jazz and finalize a plan. Try not to worry, I'm sure Jazz can arrange to keep Sentinel safe without his realizing it._ '

Orion's tone was more relaxed, though it was clear he was still concerned. ' _It's Jazz, of course he can._ '

Prowl filed that tidbit of confidence away to be examined later. Prince Sentinel's safety and survival were more important than his curiosity right now, anyway. He gleaned more information from Orion and let the Prince end the call – one did not stop a conversation with the royal family oneself – and transmitted the new information to Jazz. This was relevant to an ongoing investigation and did not count as personal. Prowl was more than capable of attending to his duties and carrying on a conversation simultaneously, but it was the principle of it. Jazz acknowledged his message and asked a question and Prowl further bent his rules to keep going over a plan with the investigator.

It had nothing, Prowl told himself, to do with not wanting to cut into time spent with Jazz on Jaspidus's racing track.

Over comms, Prowl and Orion worked out a way for Jazz to get his people to not only protect the Prince during his visit to Retoris but to leak the information in such a way that it should get to the conspirators. With luck, a sudden need to move would also result in an immediate need for additional personnel and Blueshift was nicely placed to be that. It was soon, but if they could get him in the door Prowl hoped he could gather sufficient evidence to lead to arrests. Prowl had not met the Blueshift shell persona, but Jazz could be charming and convincing, and hopefully, that transferred over.

Prowl was pleased to note that Jazz could also be professional and that he closed off the comm without further flirtations or coaxing.

When Prowl finished his shift, he headed back home and, as promised, commed Jazz to meet him at his Tower's racetrack. Instead of the main track, he added a request for Jazz to meet him at the smaller, secondary one. That one had obstacles, instead of just being a standard racing surface. Prowl had no intention of making things easy on Jazz.

Jazz was standing at the starting line, looking over the course when Prowl arrived. It was at its default configuration: with a simple command to the track's AI, Prowl changed it to something more challenging.

"You're a bit of a bastard, you know that?" Jazz said conversationally when Prowl pulled up next to him. "But if that's how you want to play it, fine." He folded down into his alt mode in a showy transformation sequence and revved his engine. "Try to keep up!"

Prowl calculated that being given a deliberate head start would annoy Jazz and increase his chances of making a mistake. He waited for thirty nano-kliks before starting the course himself, then poured on the speed and caught up to Jazz. Jazz let them run neck-and-neck for a bit then used one of the obstacles to gain the lead.

Prowl overtook him at the next obstacle.

Jazz chased him through the slalom and used a ramp that came after it to get ahead while Prowl went around it. _Prowl_ knew that the next section was easier if you didn't use the ramp, but Jazz didn't, and the investigator didn't get the lead back like he'd expected. Not right away: Jazz was a fast learner.

If Prowl had been in his root mode, he would have been fighting back a grin as they simultaneously crossed the finish line. He had his expression under control by the time he transformed, but Jazz wasn't even bothering.

"So, were you trying to keep ahead cause you like to win, or cause you like the idea of me watching your bumper?" Jazz asked, getting into Prowl's space. "Or were you trying to get me revved up to stay in front cause you want to look at mine?"

"I was attempting to win, as I expect were you," Prowl replied.

"Yeah, I'm not so sure that's all it was." Jazz gave him a cocky grin. "Especially after yesterday morning."

"Yesterday morning was an aberration," Prowl informed him. "I do not involve myself with coworkers."

"Oh, yeah? Straddling me in the hallway with your panels open felt pretty 'involved' to me." Jazz traced a finger along the edge of Prowl's wrist, up along his forearm, and over, not quite touching the port cover there but making his intention clear. "Wanna bend your rule a little more? Maybe give me a little…encouragement?"

Prowl had no intention of doing any such thing before his condition had been fulfilled and pulled his wrist free. Jazz didn't try to catch it, didn't protest, just drew his own hand back.

"I don't become involved with the people I work with," Prowl repeated. "Once your mission is complete, that will no longer be an issue. Is that not sufficient incentive?"

Jazz folded his arms and looked Prowl over. "Rather have a kiss, at least. But I'll settle for making you watch my tail again. Got another setting for this thing?"

"I do," Prowl confirmed, sending the command to reconfigure the course again. It was one of Breakneck's settings, and Prowl wasn't familiar with it, but he did like a challenge.  "We'll see which one of us watches the other's tail."

"Mech, you are _on_."

* * *

It took a couple of mega-cycles for the word of Sentinel's trip to filter down to the Jazz's targets in Iacon Minor. Jazz kept up the Blueshift persona, Prowl had to divide his attention between his duties, aiding his sibling with the flooding crisis, and doing whatever else he did. He didn't have time for Jazz and Jazz wasn't sure how he felt about that. Didn't seem like the mech was avoiding him, though, and Jazz was very sure Prowl wasn't the 'avoiding' kind anyway so he didn't worry about it. Prowl had a lot on his plate and Jazz, well, Jazz hadn't earned him yet, had he?

When word came from Deep Cover that Kickback wanted to see Blueshift again, Jazz agreed and ran his secured open transmission system through a diagnostic. It would broadcast everything Blueshift heard to a specific frequency, one he shared with Prowl only. If this were the meet, if Prowl heard the right word from Jazz or the wrong ones from the conspirators, he would send in the Enforcers to make the arrests. Blueshift would be among the arrested, but he would also be 'granted bail' fairly early on and disappear back to Teledonia again. Jazz would have to retire the Blueshift shell persona for a while, but that was okay: he had more.

Blueshift met Deep Cover at Chainbeat again. Slink wasn't there but a bulky mech who didn't give their name walked them into a back room. Kickback was waiting there with a group of mecha Blueshift didn't recognize, but Jazz had files on. They could have busted the place on the outstanding warrants of the mecha in it alone.

Blueshift made sure his transmitter was active and that he had a good feed for whatever Kickback was about to say. The transmission system detected tech designed to block it and compensated, early enough they wouldn't lose anything. The external recordings could be backed up by files from Jazz's own drives, of course, but it was always a smoother prosecution when they both matched.

Kickback didn't give a speech, or describe any kind of grand plan. There _was_ a lot of talk with hidden meanings, but that wasn't Blueshift's problem. He was just here to do what he was told, and what he was told to do was to move crates into a smallish cargo container. No one told him where the boxes were going, or what was in them, but a quick scan showed munitions and a lucky break got a capture of the remains of a serial number. That, he transmitted to Prowl in a quick undetectable burst and knew the Lord Enforcer would understand to run a trace.

"So, Blueshift, my friend," Kickback said, drawing him aside once the container was loaded and closed. "Here from Teledonia, hmm? How long will we have the pleasure of your company?"

"Was planning to stay out the rest of the deca-cycle," Blueshift replied. "Don't have a whole lot to go back to right now, though."

"I understand, of course," Kickback said sympathetically. "Family problems, lost your job, perhaps…?"

Blueshift shrugged and shifted his gaze away just enough to look mildly uncomfortable. "Yeah, pretty much." Jazz fed the shell persona a credible story in case Kickback asked for details, but of course, he didn't. No one really wanted to hear about other people's problems, Blueshift thought, letting that idea show on his face, they just wanted to make a couple sympathetic noises and hurry on.

"Perhaps I can offer you something to help you out?" Kickback offered solicitously. "We need someone to escort the container and its transport to Retoris. It's an easy job, just drive there and back and collect your shanix. What do you say?"

"Already paid for my return ticket to Teledonia," Blueshift said hesitantly. "Not sure if I can change it or get a refund…?"

Kickback made a sympathetic noise. "Of course. Of course, I understand. Don't worry, I'll make sure you don't have to worry about how you'll get home."

Well, didn't that have layers of meaning? But Blueshift chose to understand what Jazz wanted Kickback to think he understood.

"Well, okay, if getting home is taken care of, sure," Blueshift agreed. "So you're just gonna, dunno, give me GPS coordinates to show me where I need to go?"

"Naturally," Kickback agreed. "If you can head out right away…?"

"Like, right now? I mean, yeah, yeah, no problem," Blueshift added quickly, obviously worried Kickback might change his mind. Kickback oh-so-obligingly pinged him the GPS coordinates for House Chatoyance's Retoris estate and Jazz oh-so-gleefully pinged them to Prowl. Prowl must have had the coordinates memorized or on his HUD for reference because the strike team came in almost immediately and for a while chaos reigned.

Like everyone else, Blueshift/Jazz was disoriented by smoke, flashbangs, shouting, and being brought to the ground and cuffed. He did catch a memorable glimpse of Prowl striding through the smoke, insignia gleaming and rifle in hand, in charge, knowing it, and as _hot as_ _fuck_. Jazz really hoped the whole prisoner-processing and getting bailed parts of the operation didn't take too long because he needed to find out of this had earned him Prowl or not. At least the stasis cuffs prevented him from building up a really hard to explain charge.

Jazz didn't let the Blueshift persona drop until he'd been 'interrogated,'  'bailed,' and disappeared into the very early Iacon Minor morning. Then he switched back to being Jazz and archived that particular persona, marking it to be cycled back into use in about ten vorn or so. With luck, they'd gotten everyone, and it was all over for Jazz except the paperwork.

Prowl was not at Jaspidus when Jazz returned. Disappointing but on the other hand, Jazz was tired and dirty, and that was no way to go into even a one-time thing. Skids gave his report once Jazz pinged him to let him know the operation was a success: no malcontents at Jaspidus, big surprise. Well, Prowl would be pleased to know Jazz planting someone in his staff hadn't led to anything, Jazz was sure.

Maybe he wouldn't tell him.

Jazz told Skids he could finish up his work and head back home whenever he wanted – not like he had to worry about giving the proper notice. Then Jazz showered off the smoke and road dust before planting himself face-down in bed to recharge. He was awakened a few cycles later by his door chime ringing insistently. Jazz made a grumbly sound and hauled himself upright to answer.

"I had expected you to come to find me on my return," Prowl said by way of greeting, hands clasped behind his back. "I did not expect to find you sleeping."

"Had a long night," Jazz pointed out. "Y'know, what with being arrested and all." The image of Prowl, walking tall through chaos and smoke, came to his mind. "Besides, you never ordered me to come and find you – and don't tell me you didn't grab a cycle or so."

"I did not." Prowl stepped into the room, bumping up against Jazz, who refused to take a step back. Prowl frowned at him. "You do still want this?" Prowl asked, checking.

" _Oh_ yeah," Jazz purred, putting his hands on Prowl's waist. "But I'm not planning on making it easy on you."

Prowl smirked. "I anticipated as much, and if that is what you want, I've no objection to continuing as we began."

Jazz grinned. "Liked mech-handling me, did you?"

Prowl pushed him into the room with a hand on his bumper. "I don't recall you objecting at the time."

Jazz resisted backing up, grin broadening, making Prowl push him harder. "Nope, I sure didn't."

"So you liked being wrestled to the ground?"

"Apparently."

"Commanded?"

"Sure thing."

Prowl grabbed his wrists and pinned his hands behind his back. "Restrained?"

"Oh yeah." Jazz tugged against the other mech's grip, just to feel the pull, not to escape. Prowl's weight pressed down on him.

"And you like to resist," Prowl observed, clasping both of Jazz's wrists in one hand and grasping the back of his neck with the other.

"Sure do. My safe word's 'square.'"

"'Square,'" Prowl repeated. "Very good. If your mouth is occupied, ping me if you want to stop. However, when we connect, if you resist networking, I _will_ stop, safe word or ping or no. I don't want to feel that."

"Fair enough," Jazz agreed. He'd do it if his partner or partners wanted to, but it wasn't really his thing, not like physical restraint and resistance was.

"And for aftercare?" Prowl wanted to know.

"For that, I like to be held, maybe get some coolant or a wash to cool down," Jazz told him, still trying to pull free but not _too_ hard. "Can we get down to you doing stuff I can resist, now? I really wanna run my fingers through your cables."

"Hm." Prowl regarded him critically. "I'd have to release your hands for that."

"Gonna make me earn that, too?" Jazz challenged. Enough talk, he wanted to get down to business!

"Yes. Obey me, and you'll be rewarded. Disobey, and I'll leave you here, wanting. Do you understand?" Prowl asked, with all the authority of a lord and an Enforcer in his voice and damn it that was hot!

"Yeah, 'course I do." Prowl'd told him to obey, he hadn't said he had to be polite about it.

"Good," Prowl said, ignoring Jazz's attitude and leaning in. "Now stop talking."

Prowl made it abundantly clear that he was just as in charge of this kiss as he had been their first one. This time Jazz's struggle was with _himself_ as he tried not to give in and make it easy on Prowl. He kept thinking of iridescent cables gleaming as they moved in and out of shadow, of Prowl striding tall and in command through smoke and chaos, and he yielded.

"Good," Prowl said satisfied, letting Jazz's wrists go. "Very good. You wanted to run your fingers through my cables. You may do so."

"You got it, Prowler," Jazz said, grinning.

Jazz pressed his hands to Prowl's panels, traced the seams. Prowl opened for him immediately, rewarding him as promised. While Prowl kissed him again, Jazz drew out Prowl's cables slowly, one by one, ran his fingers through them, rolled the jacks between his fingers and felt Prowl jerk against him, heard him gasp. Jazz left one hand playing with the jacks and rubbed over the ports themselves with his other thumb. Prowl groaned and pushed him back but not so far Jazz had to let him go.

"That's enough," Prowl ordered, optics dark and hazy with lust. "On the bed with you. Open up."

Jazz would've been okay with fragging standing up or on the floor, but he did _not_ want Prowl to leave him there wanting, as would happen if he didn't obey. So he did what Prowl wanted, reaching up for the other mech when Prowl crouched above him again.

"No," Prowl said firmly, grabbing Jazz's wrists and pinning them above his head. "Keep them there until I tell you otherwise. Open your panels. I want to touch you."

Jazz wanted to be touched more than he wanted to make Prowl work for it, so he did as he was told. Prowl put his fingers on the top row of Jazz's data ports, tracing slowly around the rims. Jazz moaned, fingers twitching with the urge to touch but still keeping his hands above his head. Prowl caught the movement even so.

"You can keep your hands there, can't you?" he asked, drawing out one of Jazz's cables with exaggerated slowness. The cables were slightly prehensile, could jack in without having to be guided by hand, but Prowl maintained just enough tension to prevent that. It didn't hurt, but it was clear that any connection was under _Prowl's_ control.

Jazz really, really wanted that connection. "Yeah, yeah, I can. 'Specially if I'm getting something out of it."

"Hm." Prowl slipped one of Jazz's jacks into one of his data ports, not quite making the connection. "Would this be sufficient incentive?"

Jazz moaned, feeling the tug of a connection wanting to be completed. "Yes! Yes, Prowl, just…please!"

"Good," Prowl murmured, and jacked Jazz all the way in. Jazz pressed his hands down to keep them where Prowl had told him to and groaned. "Very good. I take it I should continue?"

Jazz couldn't look away from Prowl's fingers, slowly setting the next set of jacks in place. "Don't you fragging dare stop."

Prowl didn't. Jazz's systems registered the physical connections, of course, and with each one a request to engage networking protocols scrolled across his HUD. He could have, could have had at least a partial connection without Prowl jacked into him in return, wanted to, but he didn't. Prowl hadn't said he could.

Finally, Jazz was completely jacked into Prowl. Jazz trembled with the effort of not grabbing Prowl and…he didn't even know. Kissing him senseless, jacking himself into Prowl in turn, maybe.

"Good," Prowl said, satisfied, though Jazz swore his voice shook just a little. "I'm going to connect with you in turn now."

"Yes!" Jazz groaned, arching, not even thinking about playing anymore. "Jack into me Prowler. Do it!"

Prowl didn't ask twice, jacks plunging into Jazz's ports, simultaneously, on both sides. Prowl gasped sharply at the contact; Jazz bucked under him, swearing enthusiastically and affirmatively. Prowl's protocol suite requested access and Jazz gave it, issuing permissions almost recklessly, confident Prowl wouldn't take advantage. Prowl sent a ping to test the connection and then when he received Jazz's response, flooded the connection with data. Jazz welcomed it, crying out, and Prowl did it over and over again, dominating their network until Jazz's vision whited out and he overloaded.

Jazz lay there, too blissed out to move or think, while Prowl shuddered through his own climax above him. He nuzzled his cheek against Prowl's helm when the other mech bowed over him, shivering with reaction, but didn't touch even though he wanted to; Prowl hadn't said he could move his hands yet.

A little later, Prowl gently terminated the network connection and disconnected them, kissed Jazz very tenderly.

"Jazz?" Prowl said, observing him carefully. "Jazz, you can move your hands now."

"Mmm." Jazz's systems were still sluggish, and he didn't want to move even if he was allowed to. "'Kay." Prowl asked him if he needed anything but the question didn't quite make sense. Not enough data. "Hmm?"

Prowl tried again. "Jazz, answer me verbally: do you want me to hold you now?"

Did he? Yes, Jazz decided, he did. "Yeah."

"Alright." Prowl rearranged them, Jazz snuggled down against his chest, and they drowsed together for a while.

A good part of a cycle passed before Jazz was truly coherent again, though he was still languid from overload. He flung a leg over Prowl's and pressed closer.

"Hey," Jazz began, pressing lazy kisses to Prowl's armour, "so, what do I have to do to get a second round?"

Prowl's fingertips traced idle patterns over Jazz's arm. "I'm sure I can think of something. For now, just lie here with me."

"You got it, Prowler." Jazz powered his optics down again and relaxed. Later there'd be more work to do, reports to respond to, questions to answer. He didn't have to worry about that yet, he just had to rest here, warm and content, listening to the spin of his lover's spark. Jazz was content to obey Prowl without question.

For now.


End file.
